Page 34 of Savagely Yours
Room 716 took less than a half hour.
There was barely dust.
Though the space was high-end, it felt cold and impersonal. However, it was one of the cleanest living spaces I’d ever entered, my former condo included.
Unit 722 was just as tidy yet cozier.
Whereas 716 had primarily white paint with some gray mixed in, this one had a bold black feature wall. Class Ones had access to electricity and solar for TVs, but the only thing on the wall was a large map of the complex with what appeared to be routes highlighted.
The tall windows overlooked the complex’s exterior, which showed a train arriving in the distance. As I didn’t need anyadditional negativity in my life, I transferred my attention to the sofa and its soft caramel leather. Then, there were built-ins filled with books next to the feature wall, and I smiled when I spottedThe Lord of the Rings.
The weirdo lovedThe Lord of the Rings.
The moody, masculine theme carried over to the bedroom. Instead of color, this feature wall was made of dark red, nearly brown brick. Had this been even a month ago, I would have imagined myself curled up on an oversized bed just like this one, naked and wrapped around Dez’s frame.
Tears tried to bubble up.
To distract myself, I focused on cleaning.
Once I was done, I met up with Tamra again, achy and hungry. Considering our shifts were from sunup to sundown, we munched on what Althea could scrounge up to get us through to lunch. During our “lunch break,” we worked on trash hauls and dozens of loads of laundry—a gratefully “easy” day.
We hopped back onto the freight elevator.
Tamra opted to dump out the dirty water and trash while I took the soiled linens to the other side of the camp, close to where our quarters were located. After washing and drying, I would fold everything, return them via courier, and end my shift just in time to hopefully collapse onto my bed rather than the space just in front of it. Tamra would spend the remaining half of her day collecting and disposing of the trash around the large complex.
“I’ll see you later, Tamra,” I tossed over my shoulder, rolling the heavy bin in the opposite direction of where she was headed.
Again, my mind went to Dez, but I shoved back harder this time, my arms somehow both numb and burning. The chore of pushing the bin was only made more challenging by the gravel flooring. Often, I wondered how long it would take before my young heart gave out, but I didn’t grudge the thought. Dying ofan overworked heart seemed, at the moment, more appropriate than dying of a broken one.
I stopped to take a breath and shake out my arms.
The path to the laundry area was on the ground level, with a metal walkway overhead. Heavy footsteps sounded, and specks of dirt from the boots of a soldier wearing a green camo uniform sprinkled through the grating onto my scarf-covered head.
I discreetly flipped him off.
Then, not at all rested, I continued on.
As I went to enter the saloon doors that led to the laundry, something told me to look up. It was hot out, and I’d sweated through all my clothing. Even my panties felt waterlogged. The laundry was kept cool to extend the shelf life of the appliances, so stopping before I reached my temporary mini-split ductless refuge was counterintuitive to my usual common sense. But something told me to look up.
And I knew that hair.
I knew that body, which looked clean and suspiciously well-fed in an all-black Class One Elite traitor’s uniform. Everything I’d avoided, for weeks, came at me like a juggernaut of mixed emotions. Yet, as much joy as I felt over seeing Dez alive and well, with my joy came a wild, quick-building, tooth-edged sort of rage.
Thiswas why they let him keep Bethany.
For all I knew, he’d been privy to this secret prison camp operation from his military service and had steered me here, knowing it would be a boon for him and not caring that it might be a toss-up for me. While he was busy eating foods rich in micro and macronutrients, I scrubbed myself raw to try to get the smell of combined festering human shit out of my skin.
He never cared about me.
I was a job.
Any inkling I’d ever had about him possibly having feelings for me beyond his duty was always speculation.
I’d told him I cared about him. I’d told him that, as the world ended, I’d wanted to stay with him. That, if I’d had to choose, my choice would have been to ride sidesaddle in front of him on a headless man’s stallion as long as he was with me. In return, he gave me his back and a shoulder more frigid than a block of ice.
Our eyes met.
I couldn’t clearly see his lips from where I stood, but it was as if I heard him say, “Tapley.” A sudden slump in his shoulders spelled either relief at seeing me or disappointment that I was still alive.
